


I Will Not Forget You

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-05-10
Updated: 1999-05-10
Packaged: 2018-11-10 23:53:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11137131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: An indiscretion from his past comes back to haunt Fraser and Elaine





	I Will Not Forget You

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

I Will Not Forget You

# I Will Not Forget You

The day of work had ended and Benton Fraser made his way to the cabin where his family stayed. The weather was becoming more and more inclement and Benton was grateful to be home. He trudged in, removed his boots and leaned back on the couch. Elaine was in the kitchen with the toddler coaxing him to eat solid food. And Anna... Anna was anywhere. She did not like the school she was put in and teachers constantly complained about her attitude. For such a bright girl, they remarked, she lacked the ambition to actually propel herself in any direction. Anna shifted around all day aimlessly not doing her work or communicating with the other children. Benton shut his eyes. 

"Ben." 

He looked up. Elaine cradled their son, Danny, in one arm and in the other she held a brown paper package tied with string. 

"This came for you today." 

He took the package from her. He looked at the back. The sender was familiar to him. Eli Tugiak. Lisa's brother. 

"Eli." 

"Yeah," Elaine nodded, "he was really sullen. Didn't want to talk or anything. He just handed me the package without an explanation and left, kicking the snow off of his boots as he did so." 

"Let him," Benton droned and examined the package. 

Benton thanked Elaine and settled down with the package. Elaine went to put Danny to bed. A certain amount of trepidation preceded Benton's opening of the package. It held within its papery confines, Benton could tell, remnants of Lisa. He untied the string neatly and folded back the paper. A white slip fell from it. Eli's scrawled handwriting explained the purpose of the package. It had been sometime since he actually got around to sorting out her stuff. Many things he did not want or could not use, the contents of the package being one of them. 

Benton huffed. It just seemed that way. Lisa's family wanted nothing to do with him and, in particular, Anna. They had saved her once, the only thing they had felt decent enough doing, sending her away to Chicago for him to look after. But for all intents and purposes, they had sent the child adrift on an ice floe and severed any contact with her. She was illegitimate and, to compound her troubles, death followed Anna wherever she went. Her mother was brutally murdered and her aunt, Terri, was left for dead in a cold dumpster away from her family and people. Despite this isolation, Benton had tried to raise Anna in the culture of her mother. He tried to shut out the past when he took Anna to see her mother's family, hoping they would have left the past behind. Anna had, at first, a sense of trepidation of seeing them. She hoped it would be quelled by the familiar laughing faces of the Inuit. But her grandfather would not see her. She was not one of them. She was not welcome. Anna flew into an ungodly rage. She hated everyone and would have nothing to do with her mother's people. Benton had never seen a little girl so angry. It was because of his sin that she suffered. 

Benton threw the brown paper off. A thin red journal, worn at the edges, bulging under the front cover, lay under the mountain of paper. He opened it. Photographs fell from the front. He picked up the pile and studied them. One of Anna as a baby gooed to the teeth with chocolate pudding. Anna, again, this time in a bright pink dress. She was no older than five months old when the photograph was taken. He missed those days sorely. He should have been there. He tried to punish himself everyday for not being there to hold his firstborn. He opened the journal to a random page and gazed loftily on the black ink. 

February 28, 1990 Today we have finally sealed the windows and the attic. Now the house will be a little warmer.... 

It was an insignificant entry really. But Benton remembered the day well. 

Benton's back was ramrod straight and he stared past the commanding officer's head vacantly. The man at the desk shuffled the file and placed it before him. 

"You sound stable enough, Constable Fraser. Report to me at 08:00 hours tomorrow." 

Benton saluted his new superior, the sunny-haired Leftenent Jacob Lysak and left his office. 

Benton wondered why he hadn't seen what was to come. He read the next entry. March 1, 1990 I hadn't seen Benton in years. I was almost surprised when I saw that once shy, insecure little boy, now a man, working along side Jake... 

Benton fingered the brim of his Stetson. He looked at Lisa, almost uncomfortably, as she leaned against the balustrade. She still wore her nightdress and her rope-like hair hung from her head. 

"It's good to see you again, Lisa... I mean- Mrs. Lysak." 

Lisa smiled when he corrected himself. She kept the left side of her face from him. 

"You don't have to call me Mrs. Lysak, Ben. Lisa will do." 

He nodded still fingering his Stetson compulsively. 

"I'm just waiting for your husband," he explained, "he's my commanding officer, you know...of course, you know that." 

"Not really," Lisa admitted, "he doesn't tell me anything." 

Benton nodded in comprehension. Lisa sat down at the foot of the stairwell. 

"Your husband put up the house well." 

Lisa nodded. 

"He finished it in one summer," she said, "Jake's quite industrious and efficient..." 

Silence. Lisa had grown to become beautiful, Benton saw, but he silenced the thought in his mind. She was another man's wife and such thoughts were inappropriate. Besides, this was the girl who sat next to him in Grade One and played with him by the side of the lake, building imaginary kingdoms by the sea. Her face then was sweetly chubby, her hair in tight braids. Now, her cheekbones were more prominent, her lips full and her body well-proportioned. What had he missed... Benton neared her. He brushed back a hanging lock of black hair. A yellowish bruise at the corner of her eye jolted him. 

"I fell..." she stuttered. 

"He hit you," Benton concluded. 

Lisa stared at him, a pang of terror surging through her. 

"Please... It wasn't his fault. I hit him. He didn't mean to." 

Benton stared at her in abject horror. In his life, he had never heard of such things. Every touch his father had applied to his mother's face was gently and parting. His voice was never raised. Even that, why hit Lisa? She had always been a shy, ineffectual girl. What could have warranted someone to beat her? Benton tried to touch her face but Lisa held his hand off. 

"Please," she asked. "No one will believe you anyway..." 

Benton shook his head. 

"No. Lay charges against him. No harm will come to you. You'll be in a safe place where he won't touch you..." 

Lisa grasped his desperate hands. 

"No, Benton," she said calmly, "my way out has been blocked a long time ago. No one will believe that a leftenent in the R.C.M.P., twice commended for bravery, would ever hit his wife." She leaned over and whispered in his ear. "No one believes me but you. Don't. You don't know what he is really like. He can be as gentle as he is..." she touched the fading bruise lightly. "Savage." 

"Ah, Fraser!" Jake cried. "You're early. Good." Jake adjusted his Stetson and kissed Lisa on the cheek. "Let's waste no more time. Let's go." 

Benton lay down his hands and said nothing to Jake. How could he? He felt as helpless as Lisa. Perhaps she was right when she said no one would believe either of them, or was she? He simply bit his tongue and curled his hand into a fist in the depths of his pockets. 

"Ben, what are you reading?" 

Benton looked at Elaine. Her innocent eyes looked on him inquisitively. 

"Just some photographs of Anna that her uncle sent." 

He withheld the journal. He lifted up the pile of photographs to show Elaine as she sat down to see them. She beamed at each photograph. 

"She looks just like you," Elaine smiled. 

Her hands fell to her lap. 

"She's so forlorn," she said, her eyes vacant. She looked at Benton. "I don't know what to do. It's like she doesn't even see a purpose in life and she's only six." 

"All the Fraser children go through a self-destructive phase at that age." 

Elaine smirked at him. 

"I am very serious," he came back, "life just seems pointless and you see the mortality in things." 

Elaine looked worried. 

"Is this what I should be looking for in Daniel?" 

"Oh yes." 

Elaine's head fell onto his shoulder. Benton brushed the locks that fell in front of her eyes. Elaine let out a resigned sigh. 

"I think I'd better run down to the schoolyard to get her," Elaine got up from the couch at last. "She might want to get herself lost in the storm." 

Benton did not turn around. He heard the door shut and retrieved the journal from under the cushion he had strategically placed it under. He opened it and continued to read. 

March 10, 1990 I've seen him rarely but I long for every moment when I can. He is interested in my plight, he says. I want to trust him... 

Jake kicked the snow from his boots and threw his Stetson on the armoire in the lobby. 

"I know Denny Arpik is overfishing, Constable," Jake concurred, "but if we can't prove it then there is sweet nothing we can do about it." 

Benton removed his Stetson and scratched his head. 

"I know that, sir. But the fact remains..." 

Jake looked at him. 

"What fact? Wasn't that the point I was trying to make?" 

Benton was downcast and pouted. 

"Come in for coffee," Jake pleaded. 

"No thank you, sir," Benton shook his head. 

"Have it your way," the man shrugged and left for the kitchen. 

Benton could barely see into the kitchen from where he stood in the lobby. He turned to leave when he heard a shrill cry. Lisa held her face from Jake. It was red and covered in tears. Jake raised his hand again. "Sir!" he cried as he charged in the kitchen ready to pound Jake. 

Jake spun on his heels. Lisa cried softly, her face pleading to Benton. She left the kitchen for the comfortable refuge of the forbidden annals of Jake's home. 

"Good night, Constable," Jake rasped under his breath. 

Benton bit his lip. He did not budge until Jake had left the kitchen. March 19, 1990 Benton always took Diefenbaker with him when he went out for long walks in the woods behind his cabin. He did not want the wolf to get soft. Diefenbaker pounced on the lofty acres of snow and weedled his way through the trees. Benton kept his pace with him. Up ahead in the clearing, Benton saw someone familiar teetering over the edge of Marcus' Ravine, the gargantuan divide east of Inuvik. 

"Lisa!" he cried. 

Forgetting all custom, he ran to her and pulled her by the waist to safety. Realizing his error, he kept aloof. Lisa trembled slightly, caught in the act of self-slaughter. Benton avoided her eyes. 

"Lisa, you don't want to go near the edge..." 

Lisa could see on his face the pained look of discomfort. How could he speak to her? How could he tell her not to end her life in the rocky jaws of the ravine? She slowly withdrew from him and made her way home. Benton screwed his eyes shut. Benton met Lisa again that May, a changed woman. 

May 2, 1990 Lisa plucked the saxifrage from underneath the slabs of gray rock and lifted them to her nostrils. Jake was not far behind, setting up a trap for a rabbit. Benton was initiated into Jake's home life as well. He came over to the house to share a meal, spent a week-end with him. Benton welcomed this. He could observe Lisa in all her states. Now, she seemed content. The ravine incident never happened. He walked up to her. 

"Hello." 

She smiled at him. 

He pointed at the saxifrage. 

"It's always a good sign when they come out." 

"Spring has always been my favourite time of the year," she confessed, her face warming to a smile. "When I was a girl, I would pick up all the flowers that grew in the marsh and gather the berries. I would share them with no one. It was for myself." 

She nodded guiltily at that. 

"You had a right to," Benton concurred. Without knowing why, he picked up her limp hand and kissed it gently. She was touched by his ingenuous gesture and sensed in her wild imagination what it might escalate to. Benton knew very well what it would escalate to. He tried to be blind to it but then shut the prudishness from his mind. He welcomed it. He shivered as he read the journal and peered furtively in the corner of his eye, hoping Elaine would not see his body racked in memory. 

Benton shuddered slightly when Elaine entered the cabin with Anna clinging limply to her hand. She drudged wretchedly to her room. Benton called her over. 

"Anna, what did you do today?" 

She shrugged, barely lifting her head. 

"You must have done something," Benton pressed. 

Anna shook her head. She didn't want to talk now. Benton cupped her head in his hands and kissed her forehead. 

"Off to your room, do your homework, dear." 

Anna barricaded herself in her room. Benton leaned his head back. 

"She won't talk to me today, Elaine," he called out. 

"She hasn't changed since yesterday then," Elaine concurred. "Maybe tomorrow she won't even talk to me." She slumped on the couch. "I don't understand it." 

"I think Anna just feels rejected," Benton supplied. "She has really. Her mother's family has turned their back on her." 

Elaine scowled at him. 

"I am her mother." 

Elaine rose from the couch. Benton looked at her incredulously. 

"It's not the same..." 

"I am her mother," she repeated. "As far as I'm concerned, those people don't exist." 

"They do to Anna," Benton countered. 

"They abandoned her," she countered. "They don't even like her." Elaine retreated into the kitchen and prepared herself some coffee. "I am her mother and she is my baby. And I want my baby to be happy." 

Benton argued no further. He couldn't. Elaine had come to believe that she was Anna's real mother. She was. She soothed Anna's tears away, rocked her to sleep, coaxed a smiled from her lips. She had said before she had a stake in the kid and she was right. 

Benton found his thumb nestled in the crook of the pages. He flipped it open to a familiar passage. 

This was the first day of the end of my marriage... July 13, 1990 The heavy July rains had haunted Inuvik with a vengeance that was almost bloodthirsty, had Mother Nature actually lived to taste the blood of her minions. 

Lisa wanted to help her husband. It was far more engaging than staying at home. Maybe her resourcefulness could win his approval and the beatings would be less frequent. Maybe. 

Benton turned the corner to Jake's office. He could see him grip Lisa's face, a measure of correction. Benton bowed his head and tried to ignore what he had seen. Jake withdrew for a moment and that was when Benton lifted his head again. Lisa patiently bore the ritual humiliation. An angel of sweetness and patience. 

"Wait for me," Jake requested, "we'll go home in a minute." 

Jake retreated to his office. He pulled a drawer open and lifted a bottle of whiskey from under piles of manila folders. He poured a little into a tumbler, sipped slowly and watched the rain pelt against the window panes softly. His hand waved over the corner of the desk lazily. He reached out for Lisa but she was not there. 

Benton was always the last to leave for anything. He observed the red fingermarks Jake had left on Lisa's face. She bowed her head, accepting the humiliation as she always had done. Benton tossed his file on his desk and strode over to Lisa. He gripped her hand and pulled her from the post. He led her away in the falling rain to the trees for refuge. Jake still reached for Lisa. He turned from the window panes and called out for her sternly. Benton could hear faintly Jake calling for Lisa. He didn't care. He did not even stop to notice Lisa's confusion but she would know. Once in the tree cover, Benton pulled Lisa to him and kissed her wantonly, wildly, with more meaning than Lisa could remember. He tore at her white heavy cotton dress, more sure of anything in his life. It wasn't pity, she wrote. It wasn't just pity. He wanted to give me what Jake denied meand I could not stop him even if I wanted to. He said to me once that I deserved something more, that Jake should not even have me as his woman. Now I believed him. Benton remembered it well. He had to take her away. He remembered the lack of control most of all. His contact with Lisa did not stop with him kissing her hand agapically. It had escalated in the falling rain. As the rain wet their naked flesh he loved her more than anything. It was a desire to protect her, to give her what she deserved. Someone to love. Jake had no idea what to think of me when I sauntered back dripping wet. He asked me where I was and I told him "For a walk in the rain". He frowned on me as he always does. I just laughed. If only he really knew. That night I could not sleep. I looked outside my window to see if Ben was there. I saw him, behind the pines, looking up at me. Benton could see her brown eyes just then. He could see in them the feeling of satisfaction, like a great justice being done. He vowed then that she would never be alone. Jake could humiliate her and hit her but once he turned his back or left the house, Benton would be there to coax soothing to his hurt woman's body. Benton read on. I ran to him. I followed him to his cabin. He was drenched to the bone but he didn't care, just as before in the woods... Benton stood still on the front porch of his cabin, not staring at Lisa, his hands trembling with anticipation, rain dripping from his dark hair. Lisa ran to his side and touched his shoulder. She leaned her head on him and waited for him to respond. 

"Leave him," Benton said simply. 

Lisa lifted her head and gaped at him. 

"What?" 

"Leave him," Benton repeated, his hands trembling violently. He still did not look at Lisa. 

"If I try to leave, he'll kill me," Lisa replied. 

Benton faced her and gently held her face. 

"Then let me kill him. Say it, and I'll do it." 

Lisa looked for the meaning in his face. He would do it. But for one brief moment, it was unconsciable for her to give the word. She squeezed him and shut her eyes to the world. 

"No, Ben. Then we will never be free." 

"What do you want to do?" 

"I don't know," she shook her head and buried her face in his shoulder. 

Benton led her in from the rain and let her rest by the fireplace. 

Benton remembered how they meticulously planned their meetings. Though Jake was not an attentive husband, he was very possessive. Jake had trouble sleeping. I gave him some Demerol to sleep... November 3, 1990 Winter had fallen and scourged the rocky earth. Perpetual twilight covered everything and hid secrets from the watchful eye of jealous husbands. 

Lisa, burdened under the heavy parka, trudged through the deep snow to where Benton waited for her in the shadow of the pines. She lifted her feet faster and ran to him. Benton opened his arms to receive her. They fell back into the powdery snow. She couldn't stop kissing him. She planted aimless kisses on his face, mouth, neck. He found her mouth and kissed her hard and held her in the moonlight until the streak of navy signalled the dawn. December 10, 1990 Jake charged into the bar. Blood in copious amounts was spilled all over the floor. The barkeep had very little of his skull left and his wife covered her chest, as if she were ashamed of the gaping hole the gunman had left. Jake threw his Stetson down. 

"Damn him," he muttered. 

Benton crouched down with his pair of tweezers extracting clues from the corpses. 

"Sandy usually had soda pop for the kids, candy, things like that," Jake remarked. "What if they had been here? Would they have escaped being shot?" 

"Probably not," Benton answered matter-of-factly. "At any rate, the killer has not gone far." Benton stood. A familiar trademark had caught his eye. "Arnie." 

"I'm taking him out myself, Fraser," Jake promised and exited the bar. 

Jake splashed gasoline against the sides of the rugged pink bungalow. The elderly Inuit woman tugged at him and cried for him to stop. "If Arnie doesn't come out, I'll burn the house down!" he screamed at her. 

The elderly woman shuffled to her grandchildren, weeping and wailing. Benton ran to Jake, stumbling over the snow, and pulled the gasoline container from him. Jake punched him and tried to reach for his gun. Benton held up one hand and wiped a trickle of blood from his lip with the other. 

"Leftenent, you'll never get away with this. There are too many witnesses..." 

Jake was nonplussed. 

"You can't leave these people homeless!" he cried out emphatically. 

"They are accomplices to murder!" Jake countered. "They are as guilty as he is!" 

Benton rose. 

"Let me get him out," Benton pleaded. "Please, Jake." 

Jake lifted matches from his pocket. 

"You have one minute, Constable. Or you'll burn with Arnie." 

Benton trudged his way to the bungalow. He rapped slightly on the door and made his way in. The house was a mess as Arnie had charged into the squalorous confines like a bat out of hell. Benton walked into the living room. Arnie held his shotgun from his person. He was desperate now, not angry. 

"He's going to burn down the house, Arnie," Benton warned. 

"He's crazy, Benny," Arnie whimpered. "You know that." 

Benton held out his hand. 

"You killed two people, Arnie." 

Arnie rose. He placed his gun on the ground and walked out. 

Jake pulled Arnie by the collar and shoved him to the ground. Arnie shut his eyes tightly as Jake read him his rights, a pointless gesture in his hands. 

Benton remembered that Arnie had killed himself before Jake could interrogate him. It was just as well. Jake would have killed him. He took his anger out on Lisa instead. But Lisa had grown wily. She suggested that he take some time off, go see his sister in Yellowknife. Jake hugged his wife and thanked her for looking after him. The day he had buried Archibald and Sandra Nanutuk he boarded a plane to Yellowknife. Lisa stayed at home. Nora Lysak-White never liked her much anyway. December 13, 1990 Jake left to see his sister in Yellowknife... Lisa propelled herself up, laughing. Benton was wrapped around her naked body. He tried to contain his laughter and dig his teeth somewhere in Lisa's tender flesh. She fell back and giggled uncontrollably. Benton rested his head on her chest. She ran her fingers through his dark silky hair and let her eyes wander in reflection. 

"I am never happy than with you." 

He was content with her remark. He kissed her chest and made love to her. December 25, 1990 Jake thought it would be a good idea to let Benton stay here for Christmas. I thought it was a wonderful idea. Benton has no family but us. Rather, but me... Jake smiled when he opened the express package. Ukrainian sweet rolls. Lisa put them on a platter and served them. She coyly sipped sherry, giggling coquettishly as she did so. Benton did not drink. He watched Lisa laugh. He was content to see her happy. And chances were Jake wouldn't hit her today. Not with him here. 

Lisa went to the window to the east of the main floor and gazed over the white tundra. She was complacent now. She hadn't been hit since yesterday and Benton was here. She felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to face Benton. 

"Here," he handed her a book. "Merry Christmas." 

Lisa rubbed her finger along the surface of it. Persuasion. 

"It's about a strong woman..." he began. 

Lisa put her finger to his lips and traced them gently. 

"Leave him," he whispered. 

It was profound. Why wouldn't she leave him? She didn't have to be afraid. Benton would protect her. 

"Meet me in the pantry," she said. 

He understood. He knew why. Benton knocked on Anna's door. She lifted her head up from her homework. He smiled at her. Anna tried to smile back, Benton could see. The corners of her mouth almost curled up. Benton sat at the edge of the bed. "A package came today, from your uncle," he explained. 

"Is it from Nevis? From Robin?" 

Benton shook his head. 

"No, from Eli." 

Anna worked more earnestly. 

"There are some baby pictures of you and a book your mother left me." "What's in the book?" she asked. 

Benton shook his head. It was his book. How could he explain the details of her conception? 

"I have some pictures for you, instead." 

Benton held one such picture in his hand. Lisa held Anna mere centimetres from a birthday cake alight with two candles. Anna seized it from Benton's grasp and hid it in her drawer. Benton watched her frantic movements. She was grasping onto to the only Tugiak who loved her. Benton rested his hand on her head. Sin was great. Anna was a testament to that. 

January 12, 1991 I did the only thing I could think of. I ran to Ben, like an animal will run from a larger animal whose intent is to eat it... Lisa's feet lost feeling. Blood ringed her toenails. Tears froze to her face. Still, she did not care. Refuge was metres away. She collapsed on Benton's porch. Benton came out and pitched her inside. 

"God save us, woman!" he cried as he observed her. He held her feet and rubbed them. 

"I hate him! I hate him!" she screamed. 

She sobbed profusely wiping the tears from the newly-formed bruise on her cheek. Benton put her feet in cold water to counteract the frostbite. 

"I want to leave but how? He'll follow me. I'll never be alone." 

Benton rested his hand on her face. He draped a blanket around her shoulders and let her rest before the fire. He stood by the window, his sidearm ready, to see if Jake would come for her. It would be a long wait. Constable Tucker was a chubby man but eager, earnest, chipper. He rapped softly on Benton's door. 

Benton answered it lethargically. He had pulled himself up from the couch. Lisa slept still in his bed. Her feet were wrapped in bandages and her bruises appeared faint. "Hi, Ben," Tucker said almost apologetically. "Leftenent Lysak thought his missus might be here. If she is, I have to bring her back home..." 

"I won't let you do that," Benton replied. 

Tucker edged over and whispered as if in confidence. 

"If she doesn't come back, Jake will get her himself and charge you with entrapment." 

"John, he beats her." 

Tucker raised his eyebrows. 

"Tell me something I don't know. But no one will be in a state to do anything if Jake has to lift a finger. The minute he puts you behind bars, she'll be in the hospital for 'falling down the stairs' again." 

Lisa neared the door. 

"Let me go, Ben." 

Lisa whisked by and followed Tucker. Benton watched helplessly. Why was escape so impossible? The weeks had passed by and the bruises became shades of purple and green indifferently. Benton saw that Lisa had nursed a split lip behind the thick panes of glass of the house. When Jake had finally dared to let him in, Lisa smiled. Jake was forgetting her transgression. 

Jake put his Stetson on and kissed Lisa's healed face. 

"Now don't let anyone in," he warned. "There is a dangerous man out there." 

She nodded. 

Jake shut the door and became instantly serious. 

"Where are we headed?" he asked Benton. 

"The cache at Taylor's Point," he replied. "A body has been found, its head nearly severed from the body." 

"Interesting," Jake muttered. Jake and Benton observed the cadaver sprawled outside of the cache. The body was preserved in the cold. Its fingers gnarled in an enigmatic grip, legs curled, the face barely recognizable and the head hung off the neck like a door off its hinges. 

"The disposition, Fraser?" 

"He was a hunter, left his kill in the cache, was surprised from behind, tumbled out of the cache where he died. The killer took a portion of the meat, used the same axe he killed the hunter with, and bolted from the scene." 

"What would you say this was?" 

"The killer killed for the sake of provisions, nothing more." 

"Hardly a profound statement when you think that all this man does do is kill." 

"Indeed." 

Jake crouched by the victim. 

"Couldn't have bartered with the man, could he?" 

"Sir?" 

"Could he not have agreed to help the man in exchange for keeping his life?" 

"He very well could have shot him, sir. He had a rifle, fully-loaded." 

"Which he didn't take." 

Jake stood, his eyes wide-open. Benton raised his eyebrow. "Might he come back?" "It's a possibility," Jake concurred. 

Jake crouched again with his back to Benton. Benton's ear caught something. A shuffling of snow, the crack of wood. Benton cautiously peered behind the cache. A bulky man in a dirty parka with brown hair and beard secured his pack, an axe attached to his back. Jake was on the leeside of the cache, unaware of the murderer's presence. Benton pulled his .38 revolver from his Sam Browne belt and edged near the man. The man's ears proved alert. He darted a look at Benton and pulled his axe from his back. 

"Come quietly," Benton warned. "It's over now." 

The man poised his axe ready to strike and charged. Benton cocked his gun and aimed. The man leapt on him before he could lock onto him properly. The shot went into the air. The two men rolled in a life-and-death struggle. They neared the edge of the precipice the cache looked over. Jake lunged forward and cocked his revolver. The axe-murderer yanked Benton's hair and held him near the edge. 

"This guy dies if you don't let me go." 

Jake's face was invaded with a grin. Now Benton was really worried. 

"The key element in any situation like this is the hostage," Jake noted. "He no longer becomes a factor if his role is made irrelevant." 

Benton and the axe-murderer gaped at Jake. What was he getting at? 

"Shoot the hostage," Jake said simply. 

He aimed and fired at Benton. Benton wriggled from the axe-murderer's grasp and plunged himself from the precipice. The axe-murderer bolted from the scene and Jake gave chase. 

"Don't worry, Benton!" Jake cried out as he ran after the axe-murderer. "I'll send Ansoq after you! You'll be alright! Courage, my lusty friend!" Jake had never seen Lisa so angry. Or even angry. She paced her husband's office nervously. 

"What do you mean you left him?!" 

Jake crossed his hands and sat nonchalantly before his wife. 

"I had to make him irrelevant in the equation, my sweet." "You shot him!" 

"It was necessary...." 

"You must go find him!" she commanded. "It's dark, it's cold. He may be hurt." 

Jake sighed impatiently. 

"I've sent Ansoq out for him. He's the finest trapper for miles around. He can find anything and he can certainly find Constable Fraser." 

Lisa was not reassured. She turned her back on Jake and gazed out the window. The navy sky coloured the snow. Jake placed a comforting hand on her shoulder but she shrugged it off. Though she was not aware of it, she was for once being self-assertive. 

An hour later, Ansoq came into the post with a battered Benton draped over his shoulder. His leg was bent at an unnatural angle, he held in his ribs and bruises and cuts covered his body. Benton collapsed over the couch in Jake's office. Lisa ran to him. "Guess who I found?!" the burly Inuit laughed. "Can't kill Benny! He's made of steel!" With that, Ansoq slapped a gloved hand on Benton's sore shoulders. 

Jake stood straight. 

"Glad to see that you are alive, Constable." 

Benton lifted his head and glared at him. 

"You broke my damn leg!" 

"Trifling matters, Constable," Jake muttered. Benton shivered still when he read the passage that followed. An excursion to Edmonton that nearly spelled ruin. April 30, 1991 I liked the sound of Mrs. Benton Fraser. It had a nice ring to it. I waited for my "husband" in the motel room for almost two hours before he arrived... Benton came in almost wearily. Lisa was more than eager to get down to business. She started to remove his coat, tossed his Stetson on the chair and unbuttoned his tunic. Benton shut the blinds on the window and let Lisa slip off his clothes from his person. Sometimes when he was weary she would undress him and kiss him uncontrollably like the time when she had forced him on the dining room table. He did not resist or partake, he simply melted on the long table allowing Lisa to plant kisses all over him. 

Two hours had passed. Benton was still awake trying to coax the listless Lisa to sleep. Her eyelids became heavy. He stroked them shut. She tried to sleep nestled on his lap. A stirring at the door roused her. Benton's back immediately went ramrod straight. A familiar red tunic and a Stetson fell to the side. 

"Alex," he uttered softly. 

Alexander Mackenzie Reynolds gaped at Benton and the shivering woman who once rested on his lap. 

Benton wrapped a sheet around his waist and led him out of the room. 

"Alex, this isn't what you think..." 

Alexander's jaw dropped once more. 

"You're fucking another officer's wife!" he cried. "What part is it that you think I don't get?!" 

"Please," he motioned him to be quiet and cast a glance at Lisa. She trembled violently. The days of bliss were over and her husband would seek retribution. 

"Look at her, Alex," Benton whispered forlornly. "She's shaking like a leaf." He faced Alexander. "If her husband finds out, he will kill her, not just beat her but make her dead. Do you hear me?" 

Alexander kept silent. 

"What are you doing here?" Benton asked. 

"What are you doing here?" Alexander asked. "Or need I ask?" Alexander paused. "I came to see Leftenent Halloran. She told me you were in a motel somewhere. It didn't take me too long to find you." 

Benton's head drooped. 

"You have to go in and reassure Lisa of your silence. Please." 

"Ben," Alexander started softly, "you can't keep up with this. For the both of you. Stop now." 

"I can't," Benton replied. "Not until she is safe." 

Alexander was not stupid. Nodding once, he turned from Benton to comfort Lisa. 

Alexander went into the room. Lisa shivered violently and wept to herself. Alexander knelt by her. 

"Lisa, I won't say anything. I give you my word." 

Alexander searched for an affirmation on Lisa's face but found none. Lisa was despondent. Jake, she felt, would somehow know. 

Lisa tiptoed into the house. Jake was asleep. If she could sneak by, it was possible to divert his attention elsewhere. She had been devising plausible excuses for her absence in Edmonton. She had gone out for a walk or had taken a nap. 

"Lisa." 

She spun around. 

"I tried to telephone you," Jake said, "Your brother said you weren't at home. Where were you?" 

"I went out for a walk," she lied. 

"At five in the morning?" 

"I couldn't sleep, " she lied again. "You know what trouble I have." 

Jake grabbed her and pinned her against the wall. 

"I think you're lying to me." 

He backhanded her and sent her reeling across the kitchen table. He pulled her hair and slammed her against the wall. Lisa got up, putting her hands up in meek defence. She never entirely comprehended how useless the gesture was. 

Jake sat against the cabinets. He rubbed his blood-blemished hands and gazed at Lisa. She didn't move but whimpered softly, barely audibly. 

"I'm sorry, Lisa. I really am." 

Still, Lisa did not move. Jake moved a bit to stroke her hair. 

"You know that sometimes I worry and I can't control the way I feel..." He stopped and bit on his lip. "I'll fix you up. You'll be right as rain." 

Jake picked up the telephone. 

"Hello, Tucker. Could you maybe come down? Thank you. This is the last time I do this. I promise." Benton could barely see Lisa's face under the mass of casts and tubes. Any flesh that was visible was discoloured. He stroked her hair. 

"Lisa," he whispered. "If you can hear me..." Benton struggled to say the words. "I love you and I want you to be safe." 

Benton listened as she struggled to breathe. 

"I want to leave him," Benton thought he heard through the joined jaws. 

He stroked her hair once more and left the room. 

Alexander skulked against the wall, sorry he was aware of what might happen to Lisa. He offered his friend coffee. Benton slumped down onto a green vinyl armchair and ruffled his hair. He sunk his head into his hands and swore to God that he would not let Jake get away with this. Footsteps approached Lisa's room. Benton looked up. Jake stood plainly before the door. Benton scowled at him. 

"I've come to talk to Lisa," he explained. 

Benton exhaled. 

"Why? What have you come to say? Sorry? Sorry I broke your damn jaw!" 

Benton rushed Jake. He shoved him against the wall and pounded his stomach. Alexander peeled him from Jake. Two orderlies pried their way through. 

"Come on, Jake!" Benton cried. "Hit me! I'm the one you want! Come on!" 

Jake remained downcast. Benton pointed his arm at him with every ounce of meaning. 

"That man beats his wife," he proclaimed. 

Benton was moved aside. Alexander's strong arms pushed him to the periphery. He felt that Benton would most certainly kill Jake and who could blame him. 

Benton learned a few things from that journal entry. Jake became very conciliatory. He visited Lisa everyday, bought her fresh flowers when he could, fed her soup. Lisa felt he truly was sorry for snapping her jaw. Lisa had not seen such sweetness in him since the first year they had been married. In a fit of rage, he had hurled her down the stairs and she had miscarried. Though he could not bring himself to actually cry, he trembled with guilt over killing his unborn son. She had never forgiven him and had taken his consequent kindness with a grain of salt. Nothing would restore the child to her and the beatings would eventually start again. Another thing that Benton had learned was he could not trust the higher echelons of power. Jake's beatings of Lisa had gone unnoticed for the longest time and the last incident was swept under the rug. Alexander beat his fists against the wall. Jake was a savage and could get away with it. Benton had to revert to another plan. Lisa was prepared to leave Jake. She just needed some time. Benton did not look up from the journal. He sipped his tea and replaced the cup on the table. Elaine waited for him to lift his head up, to notice her, to do something other than read and read that damned journal. 

"What is in that thing?" 

Benton lifted his head up and looked at her. 

"Nothing." 

"Don't lie to me." 

Benton stopped, a customary procrastination when Elaine caught him in a lie. 

"I don't want to tell you," he bowed his head. "It belonged to Lisa." 

"What is in it?" 

Benton looked into her eyes. He would not lie to her but he could not tell her. He shook his head. 

"You're in there." Elaine rose from the table and sat next to him. "Let me read it. Please." 

Benton closed the journal and hugged it to his body. He would not be swayed by Elaine's plaintive request. 

"Please don't do this, Elaine," he pleaded. "Lisa is dead. She can't hurt you." 

"It's not her I'm worried about," Elaine replied as she tried to take the journal. 

Benton held it tighter. 

"Then why do you care?" 

Elaine stopped. Benton looked at the journal. 

"This is her last written testament to me." He looked at Elaine. "You have her daughter. There is no greater price." 

Elaine waited in trepidation for the clenching definer of her husband's love. 

"Do I have you?" 

"You always have." 

Benton kissed Elaine's head and slid into bed next her. He listened to her soft breathing. He edged so near to her that he nearly incorporated his body to her's. He shut his eyes but briefly. After the last pages he had read that evening, he thought of the last time he and Lisa were together. 

January 25, 1992 Lisa casually left her copy of Persuasion on his desk and wished him good-night. He took the message well- meet her where they could be alone. He dotted the I's and crossed the t's of his report and shut down for the night. He marched to her uncle's cabin at a distance in the dim yellow lights that scarred the narrow roads of Inuvik. He knocked on the door innocently. She let him in and disrobed slowly. He tossed his snow-wet clothes on the chair and joined Lisa under the plaid blanket near the fireplace. If he had known what would have happened, he would never have let her go. He would have held her until the morning. He would have swept her from one end of the country to the other. But what of Elaine? His helpmate, his wife, his lover? Could he forget how she nursed his bleeding fingers in the Arctic or gave birth to his son in hopes that the child would live to see the morning when he could not fathom that possibility? He couldn't ignore Elaine. It was her resourcefulness and her hope that saved him. It was her breathing that he could hear and her body that he lay next to every night. All he could do was think of how Lisa felt when he left her. Her journal painted a much more vivid and realistic picture than her last letter to him. Benton had left the cabin just as the sun crept up over the horizon. He did not wake Lisa. He let the woman sleep like an infant near the fire. It was then that he saw why he loved her. She was so helpless, desperate, passionate. An arctic crocus wrapped in its fragile, purple shell. When she could walk on her own where would he be? Benton crossed the thought out of his mind. The time had not yet come. 

Jake did not look at him when he reported to his office. 

"I've phoned Leftenent March," he said biting on his lip. "You're out to the Yukon post tonight." 

Benton gaped at him. Jake fixed his stare on Benton. 

"Dismissed, Constable." 

Benton curbed the desire to curse at him. That son-of-a-bitch would not separate him from Lisa. 

But before Benton knew he was being whisked away from Inuvik and away from Lisa. Lisa ran like a driven woman through the wet snow. She pushed through the door of the post and frantically approached the woman at the desk. 

"Where is Constable Fraser?" 

"He left for the Yukon just this morning." 

Lisa's knees felt rubbery. Her heart failed to beat. She gripped the edge of the woman's desk and then let go. She was propelled outside by the pure force of the horrific news. He was gone. She felt more alone and vulnerable than ever. There was nothing left for her now. She staggered home. Snow fell and dripped from her long black hair. Elders who walked by observed her sorry state. It was as though they could see the sin on her. She hurried home to avoid the heat of their glares. She could not eat the supper she made for Jake. He shovelled food into his mouth endlessly. She buried her face in her hands but at once looked up. He was shameless in everything he did. Nothing human affected him. She scowled at him, an expression foreign to her beautiful round face. 

"You're happy that he's gone, aren't you?" 

Jake lifted his head from his plate still chewing on food. He looked at her, observed her for some time before he returned to eat. 

Jake sat near his bedside table going through some old letters. Lisa came in and leaned against the wall. 

"You don't know what it is like to sleep with someone who doesn't hurt you." 

Jake stopped. 

"How long?" 

"Do you mean how long have I noticed him or how long I've had sex with him (or how many times)? And why do you care? Are you angry that someone could take what was supposed to be yours'?" 

Jake did not look at her. "I loved you." 

He stopped. He lifted his head. 

"You cuckolded me, Lisa. How would you like me to feel?" 

He neared her but made no motion to harm her. 

"I hate you," he said calmly. "I don't want us to live as man and wife anymore." 

"Have we ever?" she asked. 

"Live in the spare room," he answered, "until this dies out." 

Lisa walked through the doorway. 

"Make no mistake," he at last lifted his voice a few decibels, "it is over. Forever." He wasn't as nonchalant two months later. She returned stony-faced from the doctor's office. Jake charged up to her the moment she walked through the door. 

"Whore!" He pounded her face with a single, fierce blow. Blood trickled from a cut on her eyebrow. He hit her again. She crouched from the blows. "Whore!" he cried again, kicking her. "Carrying his bastard child! You whore!" Benton could not sleep when he thought of what Jake had done. This is what steeled his belief in what he had done two years ago. A bullet to the head was justified when he thought of Jake's perpetual abuse of Lisa, his murderous intent toward the innocent Anna. Lisa lay in the hospital bed immobilized. Her right eye had been screwed shut and was the colour of prune. Her ribs were broken, her wrist fractured, fingers cracked. Numerous contusions covered her body. She did not tell anyone what had happened but they had guessed. Marital friction to say the least. But she would leave him with her dignity and unborn child intact. 

September 26, 1992 She did not even know that her body was being wracked with labour pains. When she looked at the child the nurse lay on her chest, she beamed with an indescribable joy. Fraser's blood incarnate. The child sounded like a mewling kitten. Black hair, like a burr of bear fur, stuck up all over her head. She had blue eyes just like her father. I bring Anna with me everywhere. She seems content just watching the world from her amaut... Anna, like most Inuit children, spent a great deal of her infancy on her mother's back. When Anna grew, she was thrust into the walking world. It was a sink-or-swim proposition but she adapted well. Lisa observed how Anna was like her father. Her creamy cheeks blushed with laughter, her sparkling blue eyes gazed everywhere at once not to miss the big outside world. Her hair was a constant source of befuddlement. It was straight and black and grew a few inches a fortnight. It did not fall into curls the way other babies' hair did. Lisa marked all of these changes. If Anna's father ever came, he would want to know. But he never came. He left forgood, Lisa would hear at the back of her mind. He did not mean to. Lisa still held the belief that Benton would come. Benton screwed his eyes shut and tried not to think of it. He never came. He was not as noble as Lisa would have believed. The last thing on his mind in the past few years was to trace his former lover and come across the child he did not even know existed. Instead, the child came to him on that cold February morning. Lisa's journal ended abruptly. Only scant vague entries described her fear upon treading on dangerous territory, the horror of seeing her ex-husband again. Benton stopped reading. He flipped the last bare pages listlessly and threw the journal on the table. Rubbing his fatigued eyes, he returned to bed where Elaine waited for him. Elaine opened her eyes. Benton was at last asleep. She arose from the bed to the table where Benton left Lisa's journal. She rubbed her hand lightly over the face of it. She found her fingers opening to a page. 

He is like a rabbit when he sleeps. He doesn't move very much and talks lightly. I listen to him and can hear him saying my name. 

Elaine closed it. There were still embers in the fireplace. She picked the journal up and tossed it in. No more, she thought. That being done, Elaine could rest easily. A loud shuffling, scampering and light whimpering caused Elaine to spin around. A tiny shadow moved swiftly in the dark. Elaine chased it. She made her way to Anna's room. The child was not asleep but pretended to be. She convulsed under the covers hoping that Elaine would not see her and leave. Elaine tiptoed to the girl. 

"Elaine, come to bed." 

Benton waited for her in the doorway. Conceding to her husband, she went back to bed. 

Anna let hot tears roll down her face. She clutched the charred journal for dear life. She would have to nurse her hands later. 

Anna painfully slipped her mittens on. Readjusting her backpack and buttoning up her coat, she charged out the door. She clumped on the freshly fallen powder snow. 

"Anna!" 

She quickened her pace. The footsteps became louder and heavier. 

Benton swung her around and crouched to her height. She shivered. Benton unbuttoned her coat and pulled the charred red journal from its warm confines. He held it, looking at it once. Pulling a leather strap from his pack, he bound the book and replaced it in her coat. 

"It's yours'," he nodded. 

With that, he left the girl still. She did not shiver because she was no longer cold. She did up the buttons to her coat and walked to school, never surrendering the gift for one second. "We're here, Annie." Anna McClellan woke up. She looked out the passenger-side window at the dirty barren landscape dotted with small clumps of snow. How ugly, she thought. Readjusting her slouched form to an upright position, she tried to straighten out her long black braids and make herself look representable. She opened the door of the dirty yellow truck that drove her to her hallowed destination. She latched the buttons on her parka and made her way to the house at the end of the dirt road. A boy, no older than thirteen, poked holes into the dirt in front of the house. He did not look to Anna. It was as though he scarcely noticed her. 

"Does Terri Qaluk live here?" 

The boy lifted his head. 

"Sure." He turned away from Anna and ran into the house. "Ma! Somebody's here to see ya!" 

Anna could see a head bob up to the front window. Anna climbed the steps and pushed the screen door open. She stood still as a woman in a wheelchair pushed toward her. 

"Yes?" 

Anna searched for recognition on the woman's face. 

"Aunt Terri?" 

The woman squinted her eyes and wheeled closer to her. 

"Are you...Anna?" 

Anna nodded, almost bursting with a repressed joy. 

"It's been a long time," the woman said wheeling back. 

"A very long time," Anna concurred. 

"Sit down," Terri invited, "stay awhile." 

Anna squeezed between stacks of oil paintings left on the couch and tried to make herself comfortable in the clutter of her aunt's home. One particular oil painting, cleft between two still- lifes and a picture of a tormented muskox, jutted out and called to Anna in some way. She lifted it out and admired it. 

"I remember this," she said, "this is the bus depot. Where we first came in." Anna rested the painting on her lap. "We passed it everyday when we lived in Chicago." 

Terri smiled. 

"How long did you stay in there?" Terri asked, a pained look on her face. 

"We stayed there for about three years. We left after my sister was born. Did you know that Dad married a woman from there?" 

"I heard that, yeah," Terri affirmed. 

"Yeah, well we moved up North," Anna added. "Mum- Elaine- kind of missed Chicago but she always said her home was wherever Dad was." 

"So she survived, did she?" 

Anna nodded. 

Silence. Neither of the women spoke or made motions like they would speak. 

"Sorry I didn't make it to your wedding," Terri bowed slightly. 

Anna nodded reluctantly. 

"It was kind of an understanding that you wouldn't." 

Terri shook her head. 

"That wasn't it at all, Anna..." 

Terri stopped. The words became too painful for her. Anna knelt by her. 

"What did I do, Aunt Terri? I didn't mean for your life to end the way it did. Really. I would give my life for you to have your's again." 

Terri shook her head. 

"It wasn't you. It never was supposed to be you." Terri stared blankly into space. "For years, I've tried to make myself understand but I never could. Oh, sure- I can never walk again. It must have been your fault. I began to believe it and that was the terrible thing." Terri put her hand on Anna's face. "It wasn't your sin that caused this. It wasn't your fault." 

Anna's eyes became glassy. 

"Really?" 

"The Good Book says even the good must suffer a little," Terri sighed. 

"Have I suffered enough?" 

"The question should be why you suffered at all. You, the innocent." 

Anna raced through her mind to root out the cause. The bound red journal she had saved so many years ago from the fire and all the scandal in it. 

"Star-crossed lovers?" 

Terri rested her hand on Anna's face and said nothing. 

"All this time, we could have been a family?" 

Terri nodded. Anna placed her hand on Terri's. She stood up. Terri tilted her head and smiled at her. 

"You know, I think your mother meant to name you Anana- beautiful." 

Anna smiled back. 

"I think it was for my grandmother," she supplied. "Her middle name was Anna." 

Terri laughed a little. 

"It works either way, I think." 

Anna backed away to the door. 

"I can't stay very long. There's a plane leaving later this afternoon to Yellowknife. Max is meeting me there." 

Terri rolled to the door. 

"I must meet him some time. To see if my niece married well." 

"Oh, I did," Anna assured her. 

Anna stepped out and walked down the dirt road to where Guthro waited with his yellow truck. She turned and waved to Terri. Terri waved back and continued to wave until she could no longer see the tall, beautiful girl Anna had grown up to be. She retreated into her home, a little more complete than what she had been before. 

Anna pulled the passenger door shut. Guthro pulled in next to her. 

"You okay now, Annie?" 

Anna nodded a little. 

"Yeah." 

Her blue eyes found refuge on the barren plains spoiled only by the jutting granite on its surface. And now, after so many years there was no space between them. She had been told once that when you travelled for a long time close did not mean as much. But for Anna, it was a clarity. Close meant more now than ever. It was through distance that Terri saw what she had missed- a lifetime. For the spaces that couldn't be filled, tears would suffice. Now there would be no need for them because closeness had rebuilt the bridge burned so long ago. 

* * *


End file.
